


It's not a Given, it's a Choice

by Falke



Series: Finding Our Way [2]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Action, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Minor Original Character(s), Romance, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falke/pseuds/Falke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judy loved Nick more than life itself, and she loved the concept of that love nearly as much. But - at least most of the time - she wasn't stupid. They had both chosen a job that sometimes called them to put others first, before even their own desires or preferences. And thanks to her training, thanks to the knowledge and the practice and her own mistakes, she knew now more than ever that she couldn't let anything get in the way of that.</p><p>It hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place between the events of [Blind Spots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528139/chapters/14934682) and [Someone to Catch me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033186/chapters/16002682). You'll want to have read the former before you start this one, otherwise you will get spoiled. Sorry for the temporal gymnastics. Here's the [chronology](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yPmpmdo39SmiRNC4BJVv2PAWi7fxBoP5FWba9n8s3qg/edit?pref=2&pli=1), in case you need the order of things again.
> 
> Enjoy!

Even with the custom protection, Judy's ears were ringing by the end of the drill. Her arms were sore, too, and her eyes stung from the smoke.

She'd worked from sidearm revolvers all the way up to the autoloaders that kicked so hard they clicked her teeth together with each pull. But her accuracy hadn't suffered too much, she didn't think.

Casset didn't seem to think so, either. The big polar bear was inspecting Judy's last spread with the eye of a professional.

"With a little polish you might still make a decent sharpshooter," she said. "You're well within qualifications. Your skills are developed, your accuracy is excellent. So." Casset tossed the target sheet on the pile. "Why are you still here?"

It was a drill as familiar as the shooting now. Casset had made her go through it every day for the last week. Judy safed her pistol and placed it on the workbench, waiting for the order to break it down and clean it. "Remedial."

"And why are you in remedial?"

"I ran toward the gunfire on my last case."

"You ran toward the gunfire on your last case." Casset folded her arms. "You broke cover and somehow pulled your partner with you. And you paid for it." She tapped a claw against the pistol slide. "These things don't let you make mistakes."

It wasn't Casset's job to give Judy the psych treatment, but it always seemed to leak in a bit. Judy supposed that was the guilty conscience talking more than anything. Despite the advice and training and counsel from the actual psychologists, Judy sometimes wondered if she could have done anything differently to prevent that night in the alley. Two more dead, and Boots soon after.

Not running down toward the armed suspects with nothing but a taser would have been a start. Judy steeled herself and looked Casset in the eye. "Yes, Ma'am."

Casset frowned down at her. "Clean that. Then you're dismissed for mess."

Judy was getting good at breaking down the academy's range of firearms. She didn't have a particular interest in them - they were loud, and made her sore, and typically her work never warranted more than a light taser - but that was a big part of what she was here to do: gain a fresh appreciation for how they worked and what they did, by any means necessary. Bogo had been explicit about that.

So she oiled parts and wiped them down and reassembled the pistol step by familiar step, and though of Nick.

They'd started this case as good partners, and in the space of just weeks something new had appeared between them, something wonderful. Judy had never been in love before, not really. Even though this new connection with Nick was borne in no small part of desperation, of necessity because neither of them had anyone else who understood quite the same way, she was glad for it. Because he did understand her. She understood him. They might have learned to trust and share and love under dire conditions, but that didn't make it any less valid.

He was here, too. But Judy couldn't risk showing that for the relief it was.

Bogo was expecting them to shape up and learn lessons from this, not treat it as a vacation. If they were to be long-term partners, he'd said, they needed a 'dose of responsibility.' Of the real world. As if watching animals die and hearing Boots' heavy footfalls wasn't enough of one.

Judy shook her head to stop the memories and started out onto the overcast quad. Most of the cadets - nuggets, Casset called them - were already inside for the evening. There was just one group left, jogging the perimeter, risking the evening rain to finish up their calisthenics. Judy didn't bother looking for Nick. They did their exercise in the mornings, with their assigned group.

He was already in the dining hall, holding down their favorite table along one wall where there was a good scattering of mid-scale chairs. She watched his ears come up and his tail swish as he caught sight of her in the doorway, but then he turned back to his food.

Nick was careful. She couldn't blame him. Word got around even faster than she imagined: that she and Nick had cracked the Night howler case while he was still a civilian; that they'd been part of whatever made a mess of Fallside Heights; that they were back now. Here, Nick kept his head down and avoided making waves when he could. Judy tried to do the same, for his sake. They drew enough attention without encouraging any more of it.

The line for the salad bar was almost always shorter than the one that served bug burgers and soy shakes. Judy loaded up on cucumbers and tomatoes and took her tray over to their table.

"Hey, Carrots." Nick was quiet, but his greeting was plenty warm. This time he did give her that reckless extra second of eye contact she wanted. "You smell like firing range."

"I came straight here. Are you actually getting left alone tonight?"

"For the moment," Nick said. "You holding up under Casset?"

"It's tiring, but yes. She's doing her job," Judy reminded him. "More than you or I can say sometimes."

Nick was quiet at that, except for his expression. She loaded her fork with greens and she could feel his eyes on her, as if to make sure she really was okay.

"Hi, Hopps."

A brown squirrel climbed onto the slightly-too-big chair next to Judy, balancing a tray of fruit and nuts as he went. He was wearing a big smile, despite having come in from what most nuggets considered the worst part of Academy training: regulations review.

"Patch."

Everyone called him that, on account of the splash of lighter fur along one side of his face. His full name was Julian LeCarroll, but 'Patch' was much easier on the tongue. Casset had certainly taken a liking to it. It was easier to yell.

He started in on a walnut and gave Nick a nod. "Wilde."

Nick inclined his muzzle. Judy felt for him. Patch was a real newbie, younger even than Judy had been when she enrolled, and he'd grown up in farm country just like she had. this was the most cosmopolitan experience of his life so far, and his first chance to spend a lot of time with predators. He was still very careful, especially around Nick. Judy wasn't sure he noticed.

Still, he was trying, which was more than some of the recruits seemed to do sometimes.

Christopher Strecker was a wolverine without much love for prey species who, in Nick's words, 'took himself entirely too seriously.' Strecker was proud, which was fine; but he was also fiercely independent, which wasn't always the best mindset for the Academy. There was nothing wrong with proving oneself - Judy knew she was evidence of that - but it wasn't supposed to come at the disregard of others.

Strecker dropped his tray on the table alongside Nick and barely spared a glance for Judy and Patch on the other side; he just sat heavily and started poking through the protein on his plate.

Judy could almost see the social barriers Nick was busy dropping into place. Patch had gone still and hesitant, too.

"Good class?" Nick asked his neighbor, with the tone Judy recognized as the one he reserved for hustling targets. She swore the subtle difference made a quiet whistling noise as it went over Strecker's head.

"Fine." Strecker crunched on some exoskeleton. "The instructor there, Stalkman? He says you were in on that last SWAT action up in the nice part of town."

This had been inevitable. Just days since they arrived, and the other cadets were already asking them direct questions. Judy supposed she should have expected it from Strecker. He was blunt.

Nick met Judy's eyes briefly. His notched ear flicked. "We were there."

"I heard you were the ones that put the big rhino down."

"Boy, talk moves fast around here, and it gets less accurate and more bloodthirsty the faster it goes." Nick leaned back from his plate and pointed his muzzle at the wolverine. "First, nobody at ZPD 'puts anyone down.' Second, we were carrying tasers, and we never fired."

Strecker just snorted, unimpressed. "So what really happened?"

"Classified," Nick said.

"You're shitting me. Over some hitman?"

 _"Language,_ Strecker." Nick's ears dropped. "It's code for 'do your own research and stop listening to the chatter.'"

"So it went south, is what you're saying," Strecker said. "I get it. You don't have to sugarcoat it."

He wasn't exactly wrong. Judy - and by extension, Nick - had made some very poor decisions during the hunt for Boots. Whether or not they'd directly lead to deaths still wasn't clear, but that was almost academic. If she had a chance to try it all over again, Judy would be doing several things differently.

Living the experiences, with all the accompanying adrenaline and fear and lightning-quick, glacier-slow time, was easier than reliving them. Judy didn't like confronting the awkward questions. Maybe she did have a guilty conscience.

"I'm saying you can do better than just blindly taking whatever you hear about a case at face value." Nick shook his head. "Look into the records, if it's that important to you. Those you can, anyway. Most of the case is still sealed."

"They told me this rhino-" Strecker started.

Nick stood, making the chair squeak against the floor. "Sorry, everyone." He ignored the badger and gave Patch a bland smile. "Wasn't quite as hungry as I thought I was, I guess." He started for the bus bins. "See you all tomorrow, bright and early." He canted an ear. "Coming, Hopps?"

\---

Leaving early from mess gave them half an hour before lights-out. It made for raucous dorms, at least among the newest candidates. The senior dorms, where Nick and Judy stayed, were a bit better, but they left even those alone while they could. Nobody seemed to mind that they walked the academy paths after dark - and after dark, there were fewer eyes around to see them.

There was a light breeze up, carrying the scent of the fresh-cut grass on the quad and the persistent threat of rain. It reminded Judy of home.

Nick waited until they were at the corner opposite the mess hall.

"Sorry, Carrots. I'm not exactly helping us out of this hole, but at least they're looking at me and not at you."

That pulled at her. She looked up at him. "Strecker just doesn't get it yet."

"He should know better, though." Nick shook his head. "Unlike him, I have done my research. His dad's chief over at Precinct Five."

Judy's ears twitched. "Happytown."

"Happytown," Nick said. "So you understand he's got a bit of a predator bent, and a bit of an enthusiasm problem. Don't let him get to you."

Judy hadn't planned on it. She suspected the wolverine was already getting to Nick more, if dinner had been anything to go by. He didn't have much reason to roll out the weapons-grade snark these days. "Don't worry about me."

"Too late, Carrots."

"Trade you, then," Judy said. "You're playing with Strecker. I can tell."

Nick stiffened.

"I can't stop you," she said, before he could respond. "We both know that. Just be careful about it. You've seen how Patch watches both of you."

His tail curled in closer. "I know I shouldn't. It's reflex."

"I can't really blame you," Judy said. She brushed her paw against his - not to hold it, that was risky even this time of night - but just to reassure him how she could. "You know your limits. But he reminds me of Torren, a bit."

"No, you're right. We can't afford to make those mistakes again." Nick sighed and looked out over the dark lawn. "This is what Bogo was talking about, wasn't it? The whole responsibility thing."

"'Real life is messy,'" she quoted at him.

And they'd learned to deal with the new and difficult parts together. But they didn't have that luxury here, not while everyone from the brass on down to the newest of recruits was watching every move they made. Judy didn't know which was more risky: the wrath of Bogo and Casset and the threat of losing their jobs over what they did to be together, or the fear and suspicion they might trigger in the people who were looking up to them now. She didn't want to have to consider either.

But they had no choice. Perception was inescapable.

They turned the corner toward the dorms. Senior cadets - and temporarily returned officers - got two of the little communal buildings to themselves.

"I will be careful," he said. "Promise."

"Me, too. For Patch's sake, too."

"He'a bit like you, you know. Blind idealism."

"I kind of feel like I've earned the right to say 'poor kid,'" Judy agreed. "But that's hypocritical, and he's only a couple years younger than I am."

"Well, here. Idea." Nick cleared his throat. _"Poor kid."_

"I just don't want to draw too much attention to him," she said, fighting the chuckle. "We get noticed, and that's not his fault."

"Nothing against the guy, but I'm here to keep an eye on you," Nick said. "This place was tough when I came through, and when you did. That's for a reason. We can't carry anyone."

"You're here because Bogo sent you here," Judy corrected him. "And he's expecting you to learn a couple things."

Nick grimaced. "Like responsibility."

"Like responsibility."

They paused together, before they got too far into the glow the dorm lights put out onto the lawn. Judy held off reaching for his paw again.

"I wish you could stay in my room, at least," she said. "I could get one of the nuggets to switch. We're technically senior."

"You know why that's a bad idea."

She looked at their feet. "What if the nightmares start again?"

Nick sighed and reached for her shoulders, and for a moment Judy wondered if he was going to gather her into a hug out here after all. His paws were warm.

She'd feel more guilty about bringing it up if it were actual manipulation. But the dreams were something neither of them had control over. They hadn't told anyone about that: not the incident interviewers, not the psychologists. Would it change the brass' stance on their relationship if they did? She couldn't know. Didn't want to risk it.

"I'll come find you." Nick tilted his head at her. "Promise me, if you need me, you'll tell me."

"Promise."

It wasn't as good as his arms around her, but Judy found it reassuring all the same. Nick wasn't so principled as to actually stay away if and when she needed his help. She knew she wasn't, either. But they could both pretend until then, for his sake. Until then, this was what he thought would protect her most.

"I love you," she whispered.

Nick closed his eyes and his ears flicked back, as if her pronouncement were a physical thing washing over him. He squeezed her shoulders one last time. "Love you, too. Go get some rest."

Judy watched him slip through the front door of his own dorm building before she followed suit.

Her shared room was quiet, at least, save for the snoring. She climbed to her bunk and tried to drown it out. Her bed felt large and cold tonight, and not because it was intended for large-scale mammals.


	2. Chapter 2

Morning broke cold and foggy. Judy arrived at the exercise field early and stood in the shelter of the bleachers, watching the rest of the candidates trickle in.

"There you are."

She turned. Nick was approaching from further down the benches, dressed in workout gear and carrying a Styrofoam cup in his paw. He looked exhausted, but that was because their calisthenics started almost at dawn. Nick might have worked to match their schedules, but waking up early still took its toll on him.

"What is that?"

"Coffee."

"Coffee?" A tentative sniff confirmed it. "I thought they cracked down on that outside of the mess. Where did you get it?"

"I don't ask where it comes from." Nick took a careful slurp and made a face. "For deniability reasons, and also because I'm not sure I want to know." He held it out. "Want some?"

It was awful, honestly. Hot and coffee-scented, perhaps, but the aftertaste made Judy feel faintly ill. She drank more than she should have anyway, until they had to ditch the treat on the benches when they saw Casset coming.

the morning class paired off. Judy saw Strecker and Patch off to one side. Everyone did the same exercise - push-ups, then pull-ups, and squats, and vertical leaps, and two miles of jogging around the perimeter - but different mammals had different parts of it easier. The leaps were Judy's favorite. She could get nearly over Nick's head.

The environment courses were almost exactly as Judy remembered, too - and with Nick alongside, things were even easier this time around. His strength and her dexterity made for a good combo. She picked out the best path on the monkey bars for him and guided him along; he helped her summit the ice wall with a little springboard maneuver that got her almost all the way to the top in one motion.

The nuggets were having a tougher time of it, Judy saw. Patch was doing his best, but he was even more wiry than Judy and Strecker simply wasn't accepting the help. He bulled his way up the ice wall himself, leaving the squirrel to sort it out on his own, and then got passed up on the jungle bars anyway when he kept hitting wet patches. Casset kept yelling at him - _dead, dead, dead_ \- and he was getting more and more agitated.

"I know stubbornness is a wolverine trait," she said to Nick as they worked the worst of the moisture out of their fur with the rough academy towels. "But isn't this pushing it?"

"Either Casset will get through to him, or she won't," Nick said. "I tried it that way the first time, too. Only took me a few failures."

Patch left the bars with a fluid little roll in the grass and came to join them.

"Nice work," Judy said.

"Thanks." Patch smiled. "It reminds me of home. I used to spend all the time up in the trees."

They stood and watched as Patch caught his breath. Strecker was now the only one left on the course; moving slowly now not because he was being careful, but because he was starting to exhaust himself. Patch's tail flipped.

"I tried to help him a little bit," he said, his voice muffled by his towel. "Showed him the dry spots. But it's like he doesn't even want to look at me."

Judy smiled at him. "You're doing what you can. That's a good habit to get into."

There was the wet thud of twenty-odd pounds of wolverine hitting the mud again. Judy winced.

"You're _dead,_ Streck! Hose your sorry tail off and give me ten laps. If your grip can't keep up, I'm taking it out of your legs."

Judy pretended not to watch with the rest of the field as Strecker stalked to the little spigot by the fence. Their workout was done now; they'd probably be mostly through with breakfast by the time he rejoined them.

"I don't know what it is," Patch said, once they were out of earshot. They walked three abreast toward the dining hall, Judy in the middle. "He really doesn't like prey. He yelled at me about a week ago to pull my weight more, and that's when I started trying to help him out."

"There's pulling your equal share, and there's dragging others down with you," Nick put in from her other side. He shrugged across at Patch. "Nobody's going to judge you for making him fend for himself. You beat him across the line, remember."

"I mean, you tried," Judy repeated. She felt obliged to give Patch the most balanced feedback she could. "Try Everything, right? It's not your fault it didn't work, but don't ever let that discourage you from seeing if it will."

Patch seemed to chew on that again, all the way to the front steps. Judy lingered with Nick at the entrance, long enough to let the squirrel get some distance inside.

"I wonder which way he'll take that," she said.

Nick held the door for her. "He'll make up his own mind. It's just both sides of the same issue."

"One from a predator and one from prey, you mean."

"Well, when you put it like that."

Her ears rotated at his tone. "Sorry, Nick."

"You've got a point. He still looks at me funny."

"He's a country squirrel. He notices, too, and I'll bet he feels awful, just like I did. Do." Why did they always get up to the emotional stuff right as whatever space they occupied filled with other mammals? "Don't blame him for it."

"I don't." Nick smiled. "We'll work on him, you and me."

\---

They didn't see Strecker all morning. After breakfast most of the recruits broke off into separate classes. Patch headed for first aid; Judy and Nick took their own custom lesson plan to the library and hunted down a table in the corner.

It was Judy's doing. Bogo hadn't specified this part of their curriculum, so she had found something to keep them occupied. Sometimes still couldn't decide if Nick thought it was a good idea, too, or if he was just humoring her.

"Escalate."

"To what?"

"Verbal commands. Flank them, maybe, just so they get the point we mean business." Nick looked up from the card.

"And this one? Mid-scale predator. Cougar, maybe. Active resistance. He's got claws and he's got a gun in his belt."

"Cover him at taser range and keep my distance."

"If he tries to draw?"

"Drop him until my partner can subdue." Nick's ears flattened. "Or you drop him so I can subdue. Armed encounters are rare, you know."

Judy stacked the cards against the edge of the table. She didn't need to mention that they'd managed to wade into two of them in as many hours just a few weeks ago. "It's a scenario. Doesn't hurt thinking about."

"I don't remember going through these during training," Nick said.

"No." They'd gotten most of their own experience on the job. Judy would have preferred the flashcards. But that abstraction couldn't always replicate real-world experience, of course. There was a certain value to what they'd done that they wouldn't appreciate by looking at crude animal figures on paper.

She should have escalated differently in the alley. Boots would have classified as an 'active aggressor,' in that case. Lethal force was an appropriate response, given the immediate threat to a civilian's life. She hadn't been carrying a lethal load, though, so the best thing to do would have been to stay out of the way so Torren could have taken the shot.

The rationale was a familiar one. These cards were just the latest reminder of what she'd gotten wrong, of why they did things the way they did. All this training, Casset was fond of yelling, was for a reason.

Nick was watching her, with one of his ears at an angle and a knowing look in his eye.

"I can't tell you it wasn't your fault," he said. "We both screwed up."

"I'm still seeing it everywhere," Judy admitted. "As I should, I guess. Even back here, training is just reminders."

Nick checked his surroundings with his ears and extended a careful paw. Judy met it halfway, nearly under the table. All of her fingers wrapped around one of his. She pressed the flat face of her thumb against one of his claws.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Their little ritual. It was the only way she knew that they could reliably sort through the mental and emotional baggage of the messy case they'd worked through. They had to talk about it, had to prove to each other they were ready to help, no matter what with.

So she checked. The near-constant callbacks to the alley never really went away, but they weren't weighing on her as much as they usually did. The chatter of gunfire down at the range wasn't getting to her. The world-weariness and the scrutiny of all the cadets she could take or leave, but at least that wasn't related.

"I think so," she said, and rubbed her fingers against his. "It all just feels so fragile now. The first time I was here, nobody was worried about predators or prey or stepping on toes."

Nick gave her a sympathetic smile. "Maybe you were busy."

"Did you deal with this?"

"None of them ever did know what to make of a fox," he said. "They came around, though. Just like they did for you."

"But now we're back."

Neither of them liked the reminder. Nick's ears twitched down. "We'll get through this, too. I scared Strecker off and nobody else is grilling us about what happened." He wrapped both of his paws around her touch and held her tight. "We'll be fine."

\---

Nick was wrong, as it turned out.

Judy's paws were starting to get sore from the repeated percussion of range time. She really could use a shower this time, to zap some of the tension and soreness from her muscles, but Casset had pushed her late tonight and Judy would have to hustle to get food before the mess closed for the night.

Nick was holding a little court this time, with most of the seats around him filled with other mid-scale predators. Patch was across from him, with a tiny doe keeping him company, and there was still one seat on his other side for her, right across from Nick. Strecker was nowhere to be seen.

Nick was spinning some animated tale - and knowing him it was at least a little embellished - but Judy was happy to watch from a distance for the moment. She didn't always get to witness this side of him, the old Nick that was able to fit into just about any situation as if he belonged there. Most of the time when they were together, he was looking out for her.

She knew he preferred it that way, and couldn't really blame him for it, either. But this was good for him, too. She took her place as unobtrusively as she could, nodding hello to Patch and savoring the tiny smile Nick sent her way.

"Long story short," Nick was saying, "All the cardio training is much more important than you probably think it is right now. This job is about eighty percent narcotics raid paperwork, fifteen percent parking duty, and four percent learning to dodge when the drunk you're taking in on eighth street for the umpteenth time loses his lunch."

Patch looked to be counting. One of the wolves across the table had a similar frown. "And the one percent?"

"Is where the chin-ups really, really matter," Nick said. "There are times when this job is dangerous." He held a paw out to the doe, pads up. "Shayler, right? Your mother works at Precinct One?"

The deer blushed. "That's right," she said. "She was the one who inspired me to apply. ZPD needs more digital forensics techs."

"That we do." Nick smiled. "I have no idea how any of that works." He held up a claw. "But you're going to be out on patrol sometimes, too. All the nuggets get their turn. It doesn't matter if you're predator or prey. We're all expected to deal with the same stuff."

"It only took us, what, three months after we got partnered?" Judy asked. "With that disturbance call at almost midnight, and we were the only ones close enough to get there in time?"

"I remember the one at four months," Nick said. His eyes searched her face from across the table, and there was a little turn to his lips that Judy recognized immediately: he wasn't ready to share anything about that first rough encounter they'd had, the one he'd come down from by wrapping her in a frightened, protective hug on the couch in his apartment all night. "With that really angry hippo? That was probably riskier."

Judy couldn't take offense to it. Sure, it wasn't the truth, but Nick - and she - had good reason to keep things like that quiet, even now. Some experiences were for them and them alone.

"Oh, that's right."

A lanky ocelot on Nick's other side spoke up. "What about the night howler case?"

"Doesn't count." Nick leaned back. "I was a civilian at the time. That was all Officer Hopps."

"You're too kind," Judy said.

Nick just gave her a pleasant smile.

"And the Garreline murders?"

Judy nearly jumped. Strecker had found a chair a few spots down, while none of them were paying attention, and even now she could sense the focus of the little group shifting to the new arrival and his confrontational tone. Nick's demeanor cooled fast enough for her to feel it happening.

"What about them?"

Strecker snorted and looked around the table. "What, you're not going to tell them about when it doesn't work out? Come on, they were a mess. Four dead, perp dead, officers down? SWAT wound up bombing a condo in Fallside."

"Funnily enough, I seem to remember being there." Nick flattened his ears. "What's your point?"

"That it's possible to bite off more than you can chew," Strecker said. "Hell of a first murder case for a mongrel pair of rookies."

"Is that what they're calling it now?"

Here it went again. Judy was stuck on the wrong side of the table, stuck watching Nick's reaction go from scorn and trepidation to something more frightened and confrontational. One of his ears rotated to her. It hurt, enough that she found herself opening her mouth.

"We volunteered, Strecker."

Now Nick did look over, with eyes and ears that pleaded with her to ignore the argument, to drop it and get out of here before things got any worse.

"Just providing some perspective." The wolverine held up his paws. "I know if I'm going to deal with that one percent, I want to maximize my odds. Your chief, Bogo? Should have given it to someone who can hit a bit harder."

Nick shifted. Judy knew if he were next to her, this would be where he would be putting himself between her and Strecker, just to blunt some of the suggestion coming her way, that prey couldn't do the same job, that they didn't have what it _took-_

But Patch was looking at her, too, eyes wide, and Judy knew she couldn't back down from this now.

We're not going into a war zone," she said. "Thinking like that is backwards. We're here to help people."

"And it turned out so well." Strecker's claw stabbed toward her. "Face it, you're not cut out for some of this stuff. You ran toward your target. Into friendly firing arcs. Dragged your partner along with you."

Judy heard Nick's claws tick against his food tray. Guilt - guilt that wasn't hers, guilt that Nick told her she wasn't supposed to have to feel - started up in her stomach again.

"And you'll notice we're back here now because of it," she said, before Nick could go on to something he'd regret. She looked around at their audience. "Yes. This is remedial training, because we both made serious mistakes." Predator or prey didn't matter. None of them were immune, and they couldn't ever expect to be. She was evidence of that.

The regret reared like some living thing. There wasn't a day that went by where she didn't think about what she could have done differently, but there was no way to get that across. No way to make any of them feel it for themselves until it happened to them.

"Hopps."

The table had quieted, but Judy didn't see the careful scrutiny from any of the other mammals. Just Nick, right across from her, packing so much fear and pleading into his gaze that she could almost feel it. She looked down at the salad on her plate, and her stomach nearly revolted right there. She slipped out of her chair, making for the fresh air of the exit, and trusted him to follow.

\---

He held his tongue all the way across the campus, as she searched for some place that would give them the peace and quiet she knew they both needed right then.

The case had never ambushed her before, not quite like this. Granted, this was the first time anyone had forced the issue in public since it ended, but Judy was still more shaken than she wanted to admit. It was a wonderful impression to send: maybe the little bunny cop really had bitten off more than she could chew. She expected Nick felt even worse.

He was close behind her now that they'd stopped moving, in a little corner of the open park near the shrubs and wrought-iron fence that circled the academy, where a stand of mature old oak trees blocked most of the sightlines from the buildings. The lights of the Zootopia metro center shone in the distance; a bit below them at this elevation. Judy watched them twinkle and felt his careful paws rest on her shoulders. She leaned back against him to increase the contact.

"Nick."

"Right here, sweetheart." His paws tightened. "It's okay."

"It's not okay." She looked up at him. "I hate feeling like this, and I hate what it does to you."

"Sometimes we can't help when or where it happens," he said. "We didn't expect Strecker to bring it out. We'll have to be more careful."

"Nick, we can't just avoid everyone for the next week."

He flinched, as if that were somehow his fault, and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"No," he agreed. "We'll make time. Late, like this."

"You could stay with me. I checked; we don't even have to kick anyone out. There's room."

"After tonight?" Nick looked pained. "That's just inviting suspicion."

Judy turned in his arms to face him. "So let them be suspicious, Nick. You say that but I know what you really want."

"You always could see through me."

"Stop it."

"This is about more than me, Carrots." His claws prickled, in the fear and conflict that he always tried so hard not to show her. "About more than what I want, for better or for worse. You know I'll be there if you need me, but this could turn a lot of people against us if it gets out."

It took a moment for that to get through to her, because it was at least a little bit familiar. Judy could normally accept the hiding. She could make that sacrifice because they made it together. But now it sounded like Nick was asking her to attempt it alone. Was going to try it himself. Neither of them deserved that.

But she knew, deep down, just as well as he did. This would be Torren all over again if they let anything slip. None of the cadets had any inkling of just how close she and Nick had gotten. That could change in a hurry, though, if they got into too many more dinnertime arguments, and that was what Nick was really scared of. She could feel it in the way he finally hugged her close, just for this moment. For him, the risk their connection represented was bigger than the makeup training, bigger than the official reasons they had to watch their behavior.

"Alone."

Nick flinched again.

"I'm not pushing you away," he said against her ears. _"Never._ You know that. We just can't risk so much, not when we're already in the shit with Bogo. I won't do that to you."

Some part of Judy was already counting, savoring each second that he was close to her. It wouldn't help, but she couldn't stop it. She put her own arms around his waist. "I know."

"Judy." He leaned far enough back to look her in the eye. "Do you need me tonight?"

Judy watched him, and got closer to his slow heartbeat, and tried to set aside how right this felt, how important, for long enough to make an objective decision she already hated.

"Not yet."

"Okay." Nick wasn't letting her go. He lowered his head so their muzzles were closer and pressed the top of his snout to her forehead. "Okay."

"What about you?"

"Not yet," he echoed, and even though that was part good thing, part for the best - it already hurt more than Judy wanted it to.

She felt moisture against the fur of her brow.

"You're strong enough for the both of us," he murmured. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."


	3. Chapter 3

And it held up. For two more days, it worked, because they buckled down and focused on their jobs. It would have been almost easy. They certainly made it look that way. They had no choice. Things had to appear unchanged.

They worked solo through morning calisthenics, going on experience, almost faster than Patch, who was starting to open up a bit more. He might not have made any progress with Strecker, but Judy liked to think he was getting more comfortable around Nick. Every little bit of exposure helped. Patch was equally likely to smile at both of them now.

They looked to get along, in the times Judy saw them from her self-imposed distance. The academy ran everyone through what amounted to specialized sensitivity training, since police officers worked as an authoritative bridge between not just predators and prey, but between animals of all different sizes. Nick was a streetwise, savvy mentor - and if his animated tail and paws were anything for Judy to go by, he seemed to enjoy teaching Patch a thing or two she was certain the instructors weren't going to.

They spent mealtimes blissfully free of attention because everyone else was so busy, too. Judy only saw Strecker once, on the second day, as she looked up from scraping the last of the yogurt out of her parfait cup and caught him staring from across the room. Eventually he turned back to his companions - all predators, she noticed - and she felt better for having held his gaze the whole time. She'd let him think what he wanted.

Nick saved them their table in the library for flashcards, but that was all they seemed to get. An hour into that time each day, a sergeant Judy didn't recognize pulled Nick away for sparring and disarm drills. Judy worked through another exhausting range session, and on the second day Casset summoned her the records rooms instead and gave her three thick binders full of old case reports.

"For some perspective," she'd said, watching carefully as Judy hefted the volumes that were almost large enough to unbalance her. "Two decades of lethal-fire incidents. I trust you'll be doing some reading tonight."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Judy sat on her bed as the rest of her dorm filtered out for the evening meal - and that familiar room grew cold as she paged through form after form.

ZPD's record got steadily safer, for officers and suspects alike. But what was in those binders was... harrowing. Judy read, with fascination and horror and dawning comprehension, of shootouts and executions and running gunfights through Rainforest district. There were dead predators, dead prey. Dead officers. Drug dealers, gang members; far too many innocent civilians. Cubs. One early case detailed a mass grave for small-scale mammals, complete with scene photos that turned Judy's stomach more completely than even the Garreline case file had.

There were names, too, where ZPD and the coroner's office had the information to fill them in. A Wilde caught her eye - not a fox, not anyone Nick would know, but still enough to give her pause. Hopps cropped up more frequently than Judy would have liked, but that was because there tended to be lots of rabbits around at any given time. None of them had her family's ears, for what comfort that was worth. They'd still died.

Even Boots was here. His picture, Judy recognized with a pang, was the newest one. Her and Nick's most recent contribution to ZPD's permanent record. His official name field read UNKNOWN.

The rhino had died with a bullet in his brain, from behind at a high angle. Marki, their sniper, had ended his brief car chase from an orbiting helicopter. Judy couldn't see any evidence of the wound from this angle, but the familiarity gnawed in her stomach anyway.

The message was clear: Every single death counted. No matter who it was: suspect, active shooter, prey, innocent kit, rookie cop, predator. Every officer was at equal risk of doing harm or being harmed, and their actions had permanent and lasting effects. It didn't matter what their background was, or what they wanted to get out of their service.

Judy _hated_ it.

But its value, its importance, was impossible to ignore. It did as much to drive the point home as any range time or mock gunshot first aid scenarios. That was intentional, Judy was sure.

Her phone buzzed, and she jumped.

"Hi, Nick."

"Where are you? The mess is almost closed. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She pushed the binder closed. "Just doing some homework for Casset in my room."

A beat. Then: "I'm bringing food to you. What do you want?"

"Nick, we're not supposed to take anything outside of the mess."

"Oh, that's right." Nick paused again. "What do you like on your salads? For unrelated reasons."

He'd do it, too. If anything, knowing Nick was ready to break the rules again made the faint nausea rolling in her stomach sharpen a bit. But he wasn't going to let her go hungry, either. She pushed off her top bunk and took the impact with bent knees. "Don't do it, Nick. I'm coming to you."

"What do you want, then? I'll have it ready."

"Nothing fancy. Romaine. And cucumbers and broccoli."

"Any dressing?"

"Ugh, no."

"Unadorned weeds coming up."

Ten minutes later, when she'd made it to the dining hall, she found Nick sitting off on his own in a different part of the room. Most of the recruits had already finished eating. Patch was still here, deep in animated discussion with Shayler, but Strecker was nowhere to be seen. Nick pointed to the tray of salad waiting for her.

"Thanks."

"Sure. Now spill. What is this that's so important that you can't come eat?"

"It's not exactly dinner conversation," she said. "Casset made me go over twenty years of ZPD firearm engagement records."

"Oh." Nick chewed to a halt. _"Oh."_

"It was for the best, I think. It's important to know." With an effort, she loaded her fork. "What about you? You're still in one piece."

"Mostly." Nick didn't bother to disguise how he was searching her face. "You can't see the bandages around my ribs. I'll be sore tomorrow, even with all those sparring pads."

"Ouch."

"Yep. Glad it's done."

Judy chewed, and looked over at Patch. "I wonder if he's finally found his feet? I saw you helping him."

"He's as smart as you, almost." Nick studied his plate. "Listen, if you need time, tonight-"

"I'm okay, Nick," she said. "Really. Casset's just following orders. She's doing her job so I can do mine."

Nick didn't look especially convinced, but he didn't say anything else.

They ate, and there was no more awkward conversation. But something about it still felt forced. Two days, and she was already tired of the caution. They couldn't back all the way off.

Yes, someone had jumped down her throat and they had both reacted poorly, but now that she had some practice with being apart, she didn't want to go on pretending she and Nick weren't a team. They were partners. They did their best work together. For all their mistakes during the Boots case, they'd proved that to each other.

And Judy wanted to prove that to the rest of them. She just didn't know how she was supposed to. Yet.

They were almost the last ones out. Judy saw Nick looking toward the corner they'd wandered to earlier, and cocked an ear for him.

"Are you okay?"

"I am," Nick said. "It's one night at a time, but I'm okay. I'm going to worry about you now."

"Don't. Neither of us needs any more stress."

"Yeah."

"It's two more days," she said, more to convince herself than anything. "We've done that already."

"I love you," Nick said, from far enough out of left field that it gave her pause. "And I think I tell you this every time, but I want you to know anyway that this doesn't change anything. We're doing what we have to." His ears dropped. "Just until we can get some privacy."

"I know, Nick."

They stopped at the junction where they always had to part ways.

"I don't know if you're going to listen to me," he said, his paws in his pockets. "But don't read any more of those reports tonight. Don't do that to yourself."

"I hadn't planned on it."

Nick's ears came up, just a little bit. "Okay. Then I'll see you in the morning."

He was right. Judy had gotten the point; there was nothing more to be gained from staring at the reminder of how dangerous and permanent their job could be. She would do best to sleep as much as she could, to prepare for the next day of helping Patch along and tiptoeing around the rest of them.

\---

The dining hall was curiously muffled. Nobody seemed to be paying anyone else any mind, beyond Strecker and his little cabal in the corner. But Judy was getting good at ignoring that.

She collected her breakfast and waited in their usual spot for Nick, who was taking his sweet time. Yeah, he was slow to get going in the mornings, but this seemed different somehow. He'd had his exercise time to loosen up and get the blood pumping. Where was he?

She made it halfway through a bowl of tasteless oatmeal before the main doors opened again, this time to admit Patch.

The squirrel looked like he'd seen a ghost. His ears were flat along his skull; his tail hung limp behind him, without any of its characteristic spring. His eyes seemed to go straight through her.

Wrong ticked over in the base of Judy's head. She watched Patch carefully, as he went to the breakfast line for his fruit.

Where was Nick?

The first thump was nearly subsonic; she felt it in her chest. The second made the water in her bottle on the table ripple, just slightly.

Nobody else noticed.

_Oh, no._

_Thump._ The water rippled sharper.

_Thump._ Cutlery shifted.

Judy cast around. Where would it come from this time? The roof? Through the doors? From the kitchen?

Plates rattled, and the sneeze guards on the awnings shook in their housings, and nobody else looked up.

And it came up right behind her again, freezing her in place, and even though she knew all she had to do was wait, the terror surged in her as raw as ever.

\---

Judy sat on the edge of her bunk, right under the lazy ceiling fan, and tried to keep her breathing quiet so it wouldn't wake anyone.

She shouldn't have been surprised. Two days apart, and then the disturbing case files on top of that stress - it was no wonder the dreams started again. She knew what she had to do next, too, and that was its own little ball of conflicting emotions.

She wanted - needed - Nick's arms around her right now. It was the only way she knew that would get her calm enough to sleep again. But to bring that on him and them now, here, where it felt like anyone who noticed was bound to throw it in their faces-

It could ruin them both. That's what it came down to. If word ever got to Bogo, that could be it for their careers.

But she had promised.

So she pulled her phone out from under her pillow, the one she was supposed to keep shut off during quiet hours, and tapped Nick's icon.

Nothing. His phone was on - she could hear it ringing to voicemail - but he must have been far enough out not to feel it going off. That was a bit surprising. He was a light sleeper, usually, and he'd never quite gotten over the switch to day shifts.

An extra measure of guilt crept in. He wouldn't like what she would have to do.

Judy slipped on her shirt and crept out of her dormitory. The moon was about half-full, enough to get around by without showing off her motion too much. Nick's door was unlocked, too, and she didn't see any lights going inside. She tiptoed anyway, ears alert to the unfamiliar sounds of a different pack of snoring animals.

Nick had pointed out his spot to her, just in case. Judy crept by an enormous tiger, whose tail flicked right in the walkway, to where her fox was curled up under his sheet.

Nick had a pillow clutched tight in his crossed arms, she saw, his long muzzle tucked underneath the top corner. It was so much like the way he held her that Judy stopped at a strange sadness. She ran a careful paw along the soft fur behind his ear and watched the notch in its edge flick at her presence.

He would have told her, wouldn't he? If he'd been suffering the same bad dreams, he would have told her. They'd promised each other, and she'd never seen him break one.

Nick opened his green eyes and jumped half a foot. The bedsprings squeaked and rattled. Judy drew back, startled.

_"Judy-"_

"Nick, I'm sorry, I had to-"

"Oh, no, _Carrots._ " He reached a paw for hers. He was warm from sleep.

"Nick, are you okay?"

His brow furrowed. _"Me?"_

"The way you were sleeping-"

He got it, and he just pulled her close long enough to kiss her forehead. She stood back, quiet, so he could get to his feet. He didn't bother hunting for his own shirt; instead he bundled the blanket off of his bed and into his arms.

It was just as well the Academy kept its recruits either exhausted enough or hidebound enough to actually stick to quiet hours. If there had been anyone else out here, they would have noticed a fox and a rabbit, wrapped up together in a light blue bedsheet at the base of one of the big oak trees in the little corner orchard. But it was as close as they'd get to alone tonight.

Judy wasn't even talking yet; instead she was taking advantage of the privacy their impromptu blanket fort afforded them to press herself as close to Nick's warmth as she could. He was holding her tight, wrapping his tail into her lap and pushing a paw under her shirt to the fur of her stomach because he could. His muzzle dipped to tuck under her chin; she expected that was as much for his reassurance as hers.

"I'm sorry. I knew this would happen."

She looked up at him, and that fear whispered to her again. "Not you, too."

His arms tightened. "No. Judy, I promise you I'm okay. But you had to come find me, and I wish we didn't have to sneak around like criminals for it." He kissed her neck. "What happened?"

"Boots," she said. "Here at the dining hall. Everyone else just ignored him coming. I saw Patch, too, but he looked shocked. Completely wrung out. Like we did after the case."

"What did I do this time?"

She hesitated, just for that moment. "I couldn't find you."

Nick's claws ticked tighter and his muzzle pressed harder against her. Fear, she saw, on his face and in his ears. Fear and love and impossible guilt for not reading her mind and being there to reassure her in her dreams.

"We shouldn't have tried this," he said at last.

"Staying away?"

"I can't make you do that. I won't ask you to do it again, I'm sorry, Judy-"

His shoulders rocked, and Judy dug her fingers against him to reassure him the only way she could right now. _I'm here,_ she tried to say as she nestled under his chin. _I'm here, and I love you and it's okay and we don't have to stop._

They would have to, eventually. But she would stay here with him until they had no choice, until the sun threatened to rise, and the world threatened to start up around them again.

If she closed her eyes, Judy could see Patch's wariness, and Strecker's disdain, and even the disgust Torren had turned on them, the emotion he had forced them to confront even as gunfire still echoed in their ears. It wasn't changing. It wouldn't go away just because they had it hard.

What were they so scared of? Why couldn't they see he wasn't about to hurt her, that she wasn't afraid of him at all, that they made it work? The world was supposed to be past this. They were supposed to be free to focus whenever they were together, on the things that were more important in that moment than just them.

Judy loved Nick more than life itself, and she loved the concept of that love nearly as much. But - at least most of the time - she wasn't stupid. They had both chosen a job that sometimes called them to put others first, before even their own desires or preferences. And thanks to her training, thanks to the knowledge and the practice and her own mistakes, she knew now more than ever that she couldn't let anything get in the way of that.

It _hurt_.

But it wasn't wrong. She wished she could give the rest of the world that perspective. Make it understand that there were some things just as permanent and so much more threatening than who someone chose to work with or trust or love. It wouldn't spare her having to do the same, wouldn't erase the names or the faces in her head, or the sound of Boots' footsteps - but maybe it would somehow lessen the load on her heart.

"I feel like a hypocrite," she mumbled into Nick's chest. "Like I want to distract the rest of them with what's coming, so they'll leave us alone. None of them have seen what it's really like yet."

"I know, sweetheart." Nick kissed the base of her ear. "But we have. I think that's what we're here for. To show them. To help the ones like Patch along-"

"Or to shout down Strecker?" Judy felt her composure slipping. "That's punishment. We can't change his mind on anything more than Casset can."

"We are demonstrated screwups, though," Nick said. "Not just potential ones. We're as much a risk to the force as any blinkered nugget, if not more. They trusted us with the real deal and we fouled it up anyway." He looked down at her, and softened it with a little tap of his nose. "We left the moral high ground back in the alley."

"I don't want us to change," she whispered.

The noise in his chest was somewhere between a whine and a growl, the one he got when he was feeling as helpless as she did just then, the one he reserved for when he was at his most vulnerable.

"I won't let it happen, Carrots." Nick nuzzled at her, and she pushed right back. "We know this works, so we'll make it work. Whatever it takes. Whatever we have to do."

And he wrapped her up again, pulling the sheet tight around his arms and around her, keeping her safe and warm for as long as he could.

And because she kept her nose buried against his soft chest; because his head was down, to shelter and protect her from the last of the night's chill-

Because each of them were so focused on the other and the strength they drew from being together out here alone-

Neither of them noticed the squirrel, sitting stock-still on the giant limb directly above them, hidden by the oak tree's thick foliage.


	4. Chapter 4

The change back was immediate and gratifying. Judy didn't feel like she'd lost a step at all. She and Nick worked through morning exercises as smoothly as ever - unless she counted the time she was sure they lost to extra eye contact.

They'd been at this so regularly Casset's aggressive encouragement just rolled off. Patch was the first one through, again, and she wasn't letting any of the bigger animals still out on the course forget it. Patch just looked embarrassed.

"Relax," Judy told him. "You're getting really good at this. Casset notices _good._ "

Patch studied the grass between them. "But it's just one part of the job."

"That's why you find a partner to complement your shortcomings," she said, and the way Nick's ears twitched kicked off a guilty warmth in her belly. She needed to be careful here, or mammals were going to start noticing. Patch seemed to have picked up on some of it already, if his reaction was anything to go by.

"I wanted to talk to you about that, if you had a minute." Patch swallowed. "Alone, if that's okay."

Judy sensed Nick master something brief and personal in her periphery, and that little motion she was pretty sure only she was going to notice. She kept her ears still. He wouldn't want her bringing it up, either.

"Sure," she said, and now she did look at Nick. "We'll catch up."

Patch led them on a slow walk, out of earshot of the rest of the class, back toward the hedges along the fence.

"You have experience with actual police work," he started. His awkward tail wrapped closer. "I know I have a couple months left, but I wanted to ask. What happens if I get matched with a predator for a partner?"

 _That's_ why he wanted to do this without Nick nearby. Judy pushed back the reflexive resentment, the familiarity she'd built with Nick that she couldn't expect others to appreciate. Patch was mid-scale prey, like her, and she could still understand that mindset. Had to.

"You have a big say in the partner selection process," she said. "Especially given your performance here. You're not worried about that, are you? You didn't hear this from me, but your marks are excellent so far."

"That's-" Patch ducked his head with another embarrassed smile. "Good to know, I guess." He chewed on something for a few more steps. "Can I come to you if I ever have questions? About working with predators, I mean."

"Any time," Judy reassured him. This was encouraging. Most anyone who mentioned Judy's unique arrangement with Nick did so from the perspective of an outsider, from one side of the line or the other. She hadn't met any prey, much less any her scale, who showed interest in crossing it the way she had. "Are you thinking about partnering with a predator? Someone here?"

"I don't know yet." Patch's gaze skittered away. "Like I said, I still have some time."

"If there's ever anything I can help with-" Judy tried to keep her expression neutral, her ears still. "I'm sorry. I've never been able to talk with someone about this before."

"Really?"

"Well, no one's asked. Most of our co-workers trust us to do our jobs, and the rest of the populace doesn't seem to mind it that much."

"So there are some who don't like it. Some like Strecker."

"Yes. And we can't change that, even if we want to. It's not our place." Judy looked carefully forward. The words were just as applicable to her intimate relationship as they were her professional life. There was something heady about that. "We have to do the best we can, show that we can make it work - and trust everyone else to make their own decisions."

Patch was watching her with such a smoldering guilt that Judy wondered if she'd hit close to home on something private for him, too.

"You and Nick."

"What about it?" Judy forced herself to keep calm. It seemed they hadn't been as discreet as they thought. Or maybe Patch could just smell Nick on her. She knew she could - she'd been stealing the little reminders all morning.

Patch paused in the shade, and actually shuffled his feet in the grass before he could continue. He looked at the bark of the oak tree. "Ever since I was a kid, back at home when I couldn't sleep, I'd go out to the trees."

Judy felt her heart pick up in her chest. Now her ears - damn her ears - they dropped, and Patch winced at whatever her muzzle showed.

"And-"

"And I was out here last night," he confirmed. His voice was small, as if he had as much to fear from her as from any fox or wolverine. "Because I couldn't sleep again. Right up on that big limb. All night."

 _"Patch."_ Judy would have bet she looked as scared as he did right then. What was he expecting from her? She was terrified, yes - her heart was hammering now, heating her ears and kicking in threat responses - and angry and guilty and alone, more than she ever wanted to be and exactly how she needed to be. She longed for the stability of Nick's arms right now. But right now, this was her decision. Her reaction.

"Judy, I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner. I should have spoken up then. I heard more than I should have," Patch babbled. His tail quivered. "I need to know how to handle it. I need to know what you want me to do. It wasn't my place to listen to any of it, but I couldn't _move-_ "

"No." Judy held up a careful paw. The things she did had looped in another reluctant participant, and now she had to deal with it. "I... I can't change what happened. I'm sorry it did, I'm sorry you have to live with it now. But what you do with it is your decision. I have to respect that."

"I won't breathe a word of it," Patch said.

"I appreciate that," Judy said, daring to let some of the tension escape. "More than you know."

They stood there and just watched each other, co-conspirators with a dark, wonderful secret that Judy sometimes wished she could seize and shout and display, to dare the world to challenge her the way she had challenged it. She savored the fierce _rightness_ of it, of knowing someone else knew now and didn't immediately hate her - hate them - for it.

But Patch was now just the latest example of why they had to keep it as quiet as ever. He was bold enough to meet her eyes now and, yes, he was still hesitant and scared now that he was considering the implications of what she'd confirmed for him.

"But how? How did it happen? It's so... different."

Judy had to laugh. She sat in the grass and nearly bounced right back up again, she was so full of nervous energy. "It is different. But I can't start to explain it. Have you ever been in love? It's impossible to pin down. It just happens."

"You talked about change," Patch said, and this time his ears did flick back when he joined her on the grass and she looked at him. "About things that are coming."

"It's like we said at dinner a couple nights ago," Judy said. "Policing is messy, really messy, sometimes. Nick and I have done some permanent things already, things I wish I could forget but know I can't. He helps me, and I help him. We're better that way."

"It was that fast? You said you didn't know him before."

"No, I didn't. And I'm not saying you'll fall for your partner, whoever they are. It's totally subjective." Judy smiled. "There's no training for that. No manual. You just go into it and you figure out what you have to do to come out the other side. With Nick, it was fast. And rocky. I almost OC sprayed him the first time we met, and a couple times after that. Because I hadn't learned what the feeling was yet."

Patch nodded, as if absorbing the lesson.

"But he helped so much with Bellwether, and then when Boots happened we both had to re-learn a lot of things, and we kept winding up together-"

A shrill whistle sounded from campus, and Judy's ears rotated at the familiar noise. It signaled the end of breakfast and the start of morning classes. Patch jumped and winced.

"Sorry, Judy."

"Not like I can blame you." She got to her feet and took a moment to center herself. It was good to talk about it, better than she'd expected. But the caution had to stay paramount. "I can't keep running off. Neither of us can. But if you have questions, I will answer them. Nick, too. If you want to talk again, we'll make the time."

"Thanks." Patch walked alongside for a moment. "Listen, if you do tell Nick-"

"I won't."

"If you do," Patch persisted, "Tell him I'm sorry I had to do it this way first. He's been a huge help to me, really. I'm learning so much. About partners. Predators."

His gratitude was absolutely genuine, and it made her feel warm. "I know it's hard. You don't have to rush it. He understands."

Patch nodded. "I want to work it up to tell him myself, because he needs to know. But just in case."

"I'll remember," Judy said.

He smiled one last time, then diverted toward one of the lecture halls and was gone.

Judy started looking for Nick. The emotions warred in her now: wariness and happiness and guilt and elation and knowledge that someone knew, someone else she might be able to trust. And yes, she would have to share this. Soon. Patch was right: she couldn't and wouldn't keep this from Nick, not when they talked about almost every thought that ran through their heads because it was how they strengthened their bond. But she would wait until the time was right. Until they could breathe again, without having to worry about who was watching.

Until then, his presence would be enough.

He was waiting right outside the dining hall, a little fox-shaped bundle of concern and wariness and anxious love that pulled at her like nothing else. Judy hushed his questions and tugged on his arm until he followed her, around the side of the mess, against the wall where it was as quiet as it would get.

And she kissed him, and thrilled as he responded, and was for that moment content, because she was reminded there was good in the world and part of it was his doing.


	5. Chapter 5

But it was hard to find the time to discuss something so sensitive. They might have gotten over their misguided little crisis of connection, but stealing enough time together, where they would be able to do and say whatever they needed to, just wasn't happening. Judy could feel the stress mounting, every time she watched Nick smile at her. Two nights in a row, he asked her if she was okay, and she had to tell him she was so he would sleep. She was surprised she was able to.

Judy wouldn't blame Nick for an honest reaction to the news that someone else knew about them now. But nobody else deserved to deal with it. It was for the two of them.

But she never got the chance to bring it up.

She never got the chance to bring it up, because Nick asked first, the day before they were scheduled to finish their courses and return to Precinct One. He was checking over her armor for their last field exercise with the nuggets.

"What's eating you, Carrots?" he murmured in her ear, on pretense of adjusting one of her shoulder straps.

Judy left off the finicky CO2 valve so she could look at him. "I'm okay."

"Yeah." Nick pulled the strap tighter and secured it. "You're okay, but you're not _okay_."

He could pin her in place with that look, the anxious flat-eared concern he always reserved for her. This time, Judy welcomed the bad taste in her mouth, because she knew she was in the wrong.

"Three nights ago, while we were out at the trees."

"I remember."

She put her gas gun on the table. She had to confess this to him, not the nearest inanimate object. She looked him in the eye.

"Patch was there. He was in the branches, and he heard everything."

His mouth opened slightly; his ears rotated to something a little more aggressive. "Oh."

"Nick-"

He shifted, but they weren't the only ones out here in the prep dugout. It was too exposed for what she knew he wanted to do.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Nick, it's not your fault."

"I feel like I failed you anyway." He couldn't reach for her, so he turned to hook fingers against the fence and stare out at the mockup course. She heard the chainlink joints creaking against each other as Nick squeezed. "No matter what we do, we can't just be alone. You deserve so much more than what you get out here."

"We knew it was going to be hard."

"But it shouldn't _have to be,_ " Nick snapped, probably with more fire than he'd intended. A horse and a rhino down at the other end glanced over, and Nick stared them down, swishing his tail until they looked away. "Nobody should ever look at you like there's something wrong with you. But I can't stop them all, Judy, because I don't even know some of them are there."

"Patch told me the morning after. When he asked to talk to me."

Nick nodded absently. His tail was still moving around as he worked to master the burst of protectiveness. "And what's he think?"

"He's sworn to secrecy," Judy said. "We've opened his mind a bit, you know. He wants to apologize. Wants to talk to you."

"I should, then." Nick pinched the bridge of his snout and sighed. "Judy-"

"It's okay, fox." Judy put it out of her mind as best she could. She passed over Nick's pistol. "Let's get this done."

\---

They were assigned defense. Their job was to guard a red flag on its stand inside a bunker against those on offense, who had to steal it if they could and return it outside the perimeter. The lesson was to drive home the importance of fire fields and cover and trusting your partner. Judy found it all very symbolic.

Even more so when she looked north out one of the long windows and saw a familiar bushy tail entering the field.

"I think it's Patch," she said. "And Strecker."

"Oh, come on," Nick growled. "Fine."

"You okay?"

_Okay_ okay. Judy watched Nick close his eyes behind his impact glasses as the start whistle sounded.

"Yeah."

"You know I love you."

"You're too good to me, Carrots." Nick's ears came back up. "I do."

They waited, in cover by the entrances at either end of the long structure. The practice field was laid out like a bit of a maze, with big concrete blocks scattered in a ring around the crossroads in the center. The attackers would have plenty of cover as they made their approach, but Judy and Nick had the more defensible position.

The first couple times she'd run this exercise, Judy had pushed too far, too fast, and been cleaned up quickly for her trouble. The paint rounds stung a bit if they hit exposed fur, but they were more about the message - be careful, or you'd end up dead, dead, dead.

They were upwind, and being quiet about it; Judy had no idea what was coming until she saw Patch flash over the wall a good distance to her left, across the little street and back into cover on her side of the line. She caught Nick's eye and pointed, and at his nod she took a few steps out the door to get a better angle.

But she'd lost him. Patch was fast, and agile. For all she knew he was above her somewhere, on top of the structures or in one of the scattered trees. She watched the likely approaches and worked her way back toward Nick in the bunker entrance.

"Anything?" she muttered.

Nick had the stillness of the hunter. "Got him sneaking around down on the right side of the street. I think he's waiting for Patch to make a move before he rushes the bunker."

"I'll call him if I see him coming."

"What, you think you won't?"

"You've seen him on the jungle bars. He might just make it past."

And sure enough, there was a blur of motion, low and to her left, faster than she could even bring her gun into line. The trees rattled and her paint round hissed into the dirt. Clear miss.

Then Nick pushed her down and Judy watched green paint smear on the far wall. She clapped his shoulder - _thanks!_ \- and got some distance.

Patch had to be somewhere on their southeast. Strecker was northeast, then, and they were trying to tighten the loop around the bunker. The wolverine was keeping them in cover, and burning through ammo to do it, but if it worked Patch might get the angle before they could do anything about it.

Judy waited for a lull - maybe he was reloading - and ran for the other exit, making it out just in time to see Patch going at a full sprint toward the bunker.

"Incoming!" She set up, leading the blur so she'd have a clear shot after he passed that tree-

Except instead of passing the tree Patch was going up it, even faster than before, and before Judy could adjust enough he'd leaped from the mid-height limbs in a beautiful flat dive, right through the bunker's back window. Her shots splattered on the ceiling inside.

Back inside she went, and she caught Nick's startled curse at the commotion, and then she was watching Patch tear off to the west, in a textbook zigzag to throw off their aim, back toward cover.

Feet pounded on the dirt behind her, too, and she turned in time to catch a paint round through the front window, right in the chest plate.

Strecker was charging, laying down fire as he went-

And he ran straight into Nick, who hadn't moved from the doorway at all. He put three shots into the wolverine's front and before Strecker could even skid to a halt the time whistle sounded. _End of exercise._

Strecker boggled, clearly flatfooted, and Nick stared wide-eyed, too.

Even in the middle of his distraction routine, Patch had found time to grab the flag. Judy hadn't even thought to check for it.

"Amazing," Nick said into the quiet. He safed his paint gun and tucked it into its holster.

Strecker looked like he couldn't believe it. He'd been working up to yell something at Nick, but now he swung around, to focus it on the squirrel trotting back up to them.

"What the hell was that, Patch?"

"Flag." Patch was breathing hard. He pulled out the square of red fabric he'd stuffed under his own armor. "Rules didn't require anything about taking the flagpole, so I ditched it."

Nick shook his head. "Nice work, speedy."

"So you just dumped the plan, is that it?" Strecker had not put his gun away; now it was waving around as he spread his paws for emphasis.

"Streck, watch the gun," Judy said. Even paint rounds were dangerous at close range. And there was the principle of the thing.

_"Shove it,"_ Strecker snarled, and rounded back on Patch. "I told you to run interference, not finish the thing right there."

_"Strecker."_

Judy held a paw out toward Nick, who stopped where he was.

"I did run interference," Patch said. His ears flickered. "I didn't expect the room to be empty, so I improvised."

"You were supposed to do your job, so I could do mine."

"It's an exercise," Judy said, to correct him. Patch wouldn't get any of the context if Strecker just laid into him. She turned to the squirrel. "This is hard without comms, and that's a shortcoming you normally don't have to deal with. You're right to look for opportunities-"

"You don't _get_ to talk," Strecker cut her off. "Your opportunities don't work. They get mammals killed."

Judy flared. "Do you think you could run the Boots case better than we did?" She squared right up with Strecker, and ignored the way he was squeezing his gun. The guilt was back, and stronger than ever, but she forced it away for long enough to get the words out. "That's what this is about, isn't it?"

Nick's tail lashed in her peripheral vision, but he still hadn't moved. He was letting her handle this, because he knew now, too: this was about more than sorting out the exercise that hadn't gone to plan. About more than the case, probably. And it had to come from her.

"Their blood is on your paws," Strecker hissed. " _Yours._ Because you though you knew best, because you were _special._ "

At that, Nick did rumble a growl. Judy had to hold up her paw again.

"I paid for it, Strecker. We all did. But there's no way to know how some judgement calls will go until you've made them. They can't train you for that, but they can't take away anyone's chance at learning it, either."

"They shouldn't have to. That's compromise. Watering it down. The ones who belong here? The predators? We already know the score."

"False, actually," Nick said, his voice forced light and wry. "I can guarantee that."

"None of us do this job in a vacuum." Judy glanced briefly at the others. "Not you, not Patch, not me or Nick. Everything we do - all of it - matters. More than what anyone thinks of us. And we all have to live with the consequences the same way."

It was a good speech. Nick would tell her later it deserved more of an audience than one taxonomist wolverine, especially since it didn't appear to have much of an effect.

"My conscience will be just fine," Strecker shot back. He turned to leave, and threw a disgusted look at Nick, as if for good measure. "Whatever excuses help you sleep at night, rabbit. I hope I'm never stuck cleaning up after you."

The silence dragged, until Nick blew a sigh and moved up behind Judy.

"Sorry, Patch."

"I'm... past making snap judgments," the squirrel said. His tail slowly uncurled. "About predators and prey, at least. He might have had a point about the plan."

"He's shot," Nick said. "You're not. That counts for at least something."

"Like I said, normally in a situation like this you'd have radio," Judy said. "To avoid some of the misunderstandings."

"I don't think that would have changed his mind," Patch said. "It's less about comms, and more that I don't have sharp teeth, or a lot of mass."

"You know that's not important," Judy said. "You know why that shouldn't ever stop you from trying now."

"I do." Patch smiled.

At least it had gotten through to someone. Sure, their success rate wasn't the highest, but it had made a difference that mattered for at least one person they'd come to know here, and Judy had to accept that as enough.

"You know-" Nick looked down at her. "I think he'll be fine."

"Thanks, Nick." Patch brushed at the flag in his paws. "Listen, before you go, if you have time - I want to talk."

Judy watched caution and wariness flicker for the barest of instants in her fox's ears, and then it was gone, replaced with something altogether warmer.

"Sure thing," Nick said, and surprised Judy with a careful paw squeezing her shoulder. "Judy's got to go get her armor cleaned anyway."


	6. Chapter 6

The train from the academy wasn't anything like the long ride from Bunnyburrow. This one took only a couple hours to complete - 'hardly enough time for a good nap,' in Nick's words. It wasn't technically worth the expense of a private compartment, but hey - the cars were there.

And it would be their first time alone together - really alone - in two weeks.

Nick wasn't quite convinced yet, though. Judy sat by the window and watched him peer into each of the overhead bins in turn.

"The staff psych team would have a field day with you, you know."

"Humor me," Nick said. He snapped the last bin shut and pulled the privacy curtain over the window set into the door. "I think you're going to want to be sure this doesn't have any spectators, either."

Judy flushed. "As long as it doesn't become a thing. There are no monsters under the couches at home."

"Oh, I already check for those." Nick sat beside her, fetched up in the corner of the padded bench seat, and let her tip against him.

He was so warm. So soft and strong and full of his subtle Nick scent and he finally, finally had the opportunity to reciprocate the way he wanted. The way he deserved.

He held her cheeks in his enormous paws and rested his forehead against hers. Judy let her ears fall forward, to drape over his, and he smiled.

"I don't know where to start apologizing for how this went," he said.

"It could have gone a lot worse," Judy murmured. Nick's claws worked against the tension in the muscles of her ears, where she never realized she was sore until he started massaging it out.

"That could be our motto," he said. "Maybe next time we go back things will be different. Or we won't make the same mistakes."

"I'd hope we're never in a position to have to go back in the first place."

"That's fair, too. Maybe to teach the nuggets in a non-disciplinary setting. Maybe we'll get more Patches."

"If I'm right, he'll be along soon enough. We'll see him on patrol someday." Judy leaned forward to kiss him, and he held her there.

"He apologized for hiding out, you know," Nick said. He shifted and pulled her close against his chest. "Profusely. But he thanked me, too, for pretty much everything. I think we helped him put a lot of stuff behind him."

Nick was smiling. It was still such a disappointingly rare thing for him to be a valued role model. Judy knew he still wasn't sure how to handle it sometimes, when the cubs came to visit the station, or the press watched him sort out the aftermath of big cases. All things equal, he'd rather be with her, alone. She figured her admiration was all he really wanted - the rest was just details.

Lucky him, then.

The train started with a muffled clunk. Judy heard the whistle going, and out the big picture window they had all to themselves, the brickwork of the little academy terminal slid by. Nick sighed and settled down, his careful paws making sure she was comfortable, waiting for her to squeeze them with that little signal that meant _yes, that's perfect_.

She did squeeze them, and his long chin tapped the top of her head, and still she held on.

"I'm sorry I tried to keep it from you. What happened with him."

"I know why you wanted to do it," Nick said. "Strecker didn't know about us."

"But I need to trust you more than that," she said. "Believe me, I appreciate and love and sometimes need the things you do to protect me."

_"Sometimes."_

"Yes, fox, sometimes." Judy tucked his paw under her chin. "I guess I just worry about perception, too. What you'll look like swinging to my rescue again."

"I love you," Nick said, with such feeling it made her ears prickle. "So it's worth it, as far as I'm concerned. That's part of the sacrifice I'm always going to make, no matter what."

Tears stung in Judy's eyes. "I always end up saying 'I'm sorry' a lot, don't I?"

Nick rumbled. "We both do. But I've never heard you not mean it. That's good enough for me." She felt his muzzle on her ear. "I forgive you, by the way."

They watched the world go by, and because the train's smooth motion was so constant and Nick was such a solid, reassuring warmth beneath her, Judy felt herself drifting off. She burrowed deeper under his chin to prove him wrong about nap durations.

"My couch tonight, or yours?"

"We'll decide when we get in," he said. "I want to get a nice dinner first, and then we'll worry about making up for lost time."

They were going home. They'd come through this now, too - learned something important, and taught something important, almost by accident because they'd nearly tipped over another edge along the way. But they'd caught each other in time, the way Judy knew they were always going to.

"Nick?"

"Yeah, sweetheart."

"I'm proud of you."

"You, too, Carrots." Nick squeezed her tight. "You, too."

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://falke-scribblings.tumblr.com/)
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> [chronology](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yPmpmdo39SmiRNC4BJVv2PAWi7fxBoP5FWba9n8s3qg/edit?pref=2&pli=1)


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